Silence of the Screams
by LadyWitcheress
Summary: In the aftermath of the havoc Roman Bridger had wreaked, perhaps now the screams of the past can now be quieted. Perhaps now happy endings can be found for all. For Dewey, and for Gale. And maybe, just maybe, for our favorite heroine and a certain detective.


**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit, don't sue. **

**Author's Note: This story discredits Scream 4 and goes with the one part that I actually liked about the 4th one; the fact that in the original script, Sid and Kincaid were supposed to be together. Patrick Dempsey couldn't make it, though, hence why his handsome face did not grace that picture. But other than that one fact, Scream 4 did not happen and will not happen. So there.**

**This fic picks up after the ending scene where Gale, Dewey, and Kincaid are all at Sid's house, and after the newly engaged couple leaves to go off and do whatever newly-engaged couples do.**

**Enjoy.**

After Dewey and Gale had left, Sidney was left alone with Kincaid, something that was new to her. She had tried to avoid being alone with him. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, exactly, it was more that she didn't trust herself. She had multitudinous issues regarding trust, and she wasn't sure if she could just get over them overnight.

Granted, Kincaid had been patient with her. Not pushing, not bringing up his feelings for her. They were obvious, of course, but he was being kind and letting her take the lead with acknowledging them. Not bringing them up, despite the fact that he, along with Dewey and Gale, he had been spending essentially all of his time with her. But Gale and Dewey had just gotten engaged, and they had wanted to have a little party of their own away from her and the detective. Which of course Sidney understood; if she had just agreed to marry someone, she would want to be alone with them, too.

But still, that meant that she was alone with Kincaid. No, she told herself, _Mark_. She had promised that she would call him by his first name from now on, now that the killer had been caught. But Mark felt too strange, so _personal._

And Sidney had issues with personal. Major and multitudinous issues with personal.

Which brought up another thing; how, exactly, did she feel about the detective? Did she reciprocate his feelings? Maybe? Kind of, sort of? In all honesty she wasn't sure; she hadn't let herself grow attached to anyone in years, so trying to sort out romantic feelings from those of friendship was difficult. After all, her first boyfriend had been a psycho, and then her next one had been killed by another one. So sue her if she was a little fucked up when it came to that shit.

Sighing and rubbing a tired hand over her brow, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her name being spoken.

"Sid?" Kinkaid said, and held his good put his good hand up in apology when she whirled around and clutched at her rapidly beating heart. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to."

Calming down, Sidney nodded in assurance that she was, in fact, okay. "Sorry, still just a little jumpy, I guess." she smiled slightly at him, trying to let him know that it was her fault, not his. "Although," she continued, clearing her throat. "I didn't set my alarm, so I guess I'm not doing too bad." she gave a mirthless little laugh and watched as he smirked in response.

"Yeah, I guess not." he continued staring at her for a moment, a moment too long to be just one of friendship. She swallowed a little before looking away, and worked her jaw a little. A habit she had inherited over the years; nervous habit. "So," he continued, smile on his face, "What should we do with ourselves, now that the lovebirds are gone?"

_Yeah, Sidney, what are we gonna do?_ her own little voice in her head asked. Once upon a time it had been an evil little voice, a horrible little thing meant to beat her down and terrorized her, much like the killers of the past had. But now...now it seemed more benign. Less malevolent.

"I, ah, I'm not sure." she said. "What are you up for?"

"Oh, I don't know." he still had that smile on his face. "How about another movie, or we could play cards? Want me to teach you how to play poker?"

None of those options sounded particularly appealing. Instead, she was finding herself wanting to question him finally, wanting to find out his motives for being here, with her, during his recuperation time. Well, she knew _why,_ but she wanted to hear him say it. He had brushed off her questioning every other time, and now she finally felt brave enough to call him on it. If Dewey had been brave enough to ask Gale to marry him, than couldn't she be brave enough to talk to Kincaid about his feelings for her?

"I've got a better idea," she said quietly, "It's called 'tell me why you're still here.'"

Kincaid blinked, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you mean."

She leveled a look at him. "C'mon. You've spent basically all of your time off from the force here with me. So, the question is; why?"

A little smirk twitched on his lips, though he looked a bit uncomfortable. He had faced death in the face many times over and over, but yet he couldn't talk to a woman years younger than him about his feelings? _Coward,_ her little voice whispered.

He exhaled deeply through his nose, and glanced away from her, before returning his eyes to hers.

"Sidney," he began slowly, "I think we both know why."

"I want to hear you say it." she insisted softly. She might be being mean, confronting him like this, but damn it. If he was going to stick around, then he might as well start understanding her hang-ups and issues with romantic bullshit.

And understand that she didn't even know how _she_ felt on the subject.

Kincaid sighed. "Sidney, you know how I feel about you. Why make me say it?"

"Because I want to be sure before I explain some things to you."

"Things like what?"

Now it was her turn to sigh, and rub her hand across her brow again. How could she put into words her fears, her reservations? How could she explain to him why she was so emotionally reserved, save for Dewey and Gale? Could those feelings even be put into words?

_Well, here's to trying,_ she couldn't help but think.

"Like how I don't know how to feel what you feel. Like how feeling that feeling terrifies me still, even though all the boogeymen are gone. Those reservations, those fears, they don't just go away. Not easily." she couldn't help the unbidden tears that sprung forth to her eyes, and she fought them back. They were tears of frustration, of anger. Anger at all of the people who had given her reason to have those feelings, to make her build those walls.

She closed her eyes, and steeled her herself for the words that she would speak. True, he had not spoken his, but he essentially had. Taking a breath, Sidney looked him dead in the eye, feeling like the scared teenager she had once been.

"Did you know that I had sex with Billy? Before I knew he was the killer, before he revealed himself that night. I fucked him, and that fucked me up." she gave another mirthless laugh. "Then Derek got killed by Mickey, who was supposed to be his best friend." Sidney returned her eyes to Kincaid's. "So you see why I might be a little reluctant to enter into another relationship."

Kincaid nodded, eyes impossibly soft. "I get it, Sid. I really do. I'm not pushing. I only want what you're willing to give." he shrugged. Or, tried to. Shrugging with your arm in a sling wasn't the smartest or easiest thing to do. "I just know that I want to be close to you."

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask. "I'm basically toxic to everyone who cares about me. All except for Dewey and Gale, apparently. They're pretty indestructible." she sighed, and worked her jaw again and gestured towards him. "I mean, look at what you went through. You got stabbed, concussed, and got the general shit kicked out of you, all because you wanted to protect me. I mean, come on, doesn't that _bother_ you? Even a little?"

Kincaid tilted his head, regarding her, before shaking his head. "No."

Sidney threw her hands up before pressing one to her mouth. "How can that _not_ be a turn off? A red flag? A, a...a _something?"_

The detective smiled a little. "It should be, but you know what? It's not."

"How can it _not_ be?"

"You forget I'm a homicide detective," he said, now fully smirking. _"Miss Prescott."_

She grimaced. "I know, I know. I keep forgetting to call you Mark. Sue me."

"Hm," he hummed, eyes twinkling. "Back to our original topic. I see death too much to be scared of it; to not see it as a simple fact of life. Granted, I have my ghosts, things that haunt me in the middle of the night when I'm alone. But I have come to terms with that fact, the fact that I will never be free of them. They will always be there. But you know what?"

"What?" Sidney asked, eyes narrowed.

"I know that ghosts are better kept at bay when you have someone to face them with." he moved closer to her, and she forced herself to not step back. She had faced down psycho killers; she could handle a mere, sane man. Or, semi-sane, at least. His sanity was now in question considering his feelings towards her. She tilted her chin up at him; she would not show weakness.

"And what, you want to face them with me?" Her tone was sarcastic, but there was no real bite to it. In fact, she was getting more emotional than she liked. Not angry, not really frustrated now, but..._something._ Some overwrought emotion that left her feeling as though she could start sobbing at any moment, or start pulling out her hair. Why was he making her act like this? Why was he doing this to her? If he really cared about her, then wouldn't he be making her happy?

"Yes." Kincaid responded simply, eyes especially piercing. "I do."

Closing her eyes and turning her head away, she pressed her lips together. "Damn it, Kincaid. Why are you _doing this to me?"_

"If you want me to stop, if you want me to go, just say so. Say the words, Sidney. I'll be gone." his voice was soft, but it was like his eyes were staring into his soul, staring straight through her.

Now that he was here, now that he was saying the words, saying that all she had to do was tell him to leave and he would, she wasn't confident that she actually could. She wasn't sure that she wanted to. She _had_ told him that she wasn't sure how to feel those things again; that she had forgotten in her self-imposed isolation. But she _had_ allowed him to stick around, she hadn't sent him and his proverbial baggage packing. So she knew that she felt _something_ for him; something that she knew that she had felt before. Something that scared her.

"Say the words, Sidney." Kincaid said softly, moving closer still. "Say them, and I'll go."

She was frozen; she couldn't say those words. But yet, she couldn't tell him to stay either. She was stuck. So, she settled on shaking her head.

"No."

"No, don't go? Or no, please leave?" Kincaid inquired, voice oddly pleasant, and face a few inches away from her. She could see all of his face clear, in hyper-definition. His eyes were still boring into hers, making the hair on the back of her neck and arms stand on end. His blue eyes, his thick black hair. It was all too much; it was overwhelming. She found herself breathing shallowly, and felt flushed.

She remembered this; what she had felt with Billy, with Derek. Only now she was feeling it with him, with Kincaid.

With _Mark._

But still, her inner smartass, her inner coping mechanism, had her unable to give a straight, definitive answer. Sidney's lip twitched.

"Yes." she whispered with a little smile, before closing the distance between them, and their mouths.

It was gentle, a test of sorts. A test to see if Sidney could handle something like this again. A test to see if she even wanted something like this, truly. If she wanted to have it with Kincaid.

The answer she received was clear enough.

She stopped abruptly when she felt him jerk, and wince. She was breathless, and worried that she had done something wrong, until she realized what had happened. In their embrace, she had placed a hand on his shoulder; the one that had the arm in the sling. The side that had received a stab wound.

"Oh, shit." she muttered, running an unsteady hand through her hair. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine." Kincaid reassured her. Once the pain was gone, he smiled at her. "I was enjoying that, too." he said, feigning sadness before perking up. "Oh, well. At least I'll get to do that again?"

She could see his words for the question that they were, and felt a little smile quirk her lips. He was looking at her with uncertainty for once. His calm, cool demeanor was shaken.

It was kind of nice to see, actually. Made him see more human. Less perfect.

"Yeah, at least." she agreed, same smile still gracing her mouth.

A sweet, slow one spread across Kincaid's lips, and he brought his good hand up to gently stroke her cheek. "You know," he began, "I don't _have_ to drive back to my hotel tonight."

Sidney huffed a laugh and arching a brow. "Oh, you don't, huh? Well, what about that neat little sling you got yourself there, detective?"

He grinned back at her. "Now, Miss Prescott, are you saying that I was suggesting something untoward?"

"Sure sounded like you were."

His grin faded, and his piercing eyes turned serious. "Sidney...you know I wouldn't ask for that, right?"

She looked down, and gave a little nod. "Yeah, I do." she said. "Derek hadn't either. Guess that's why I was with him. Well, in part of why." Seeing his face, she smirked a little. "Sorry. Probably don't like being compared to my past boyfriends."

"No, not really. But at least you compared me to the nice one, and not the psychopath." Kincaid grinned. "So, I guess I get your meaning."

Sidney sighed, and found herself only being able to stare up at Kincaid. "Kincaid-"

"Ah," the detective interrupted with a smirk, "Mark, remember? I did help catch the guy, after all."

She rolled her eyes, nodding in unwilling acknowledgement. "Yeah, yeah. So, _Mark,"_ she emphasized his first name, much like he had when he had been calling her Miss Prescott instead of Sidney. "What, exactly, _do_ you want?"

He smiled, a slightly confused grin on his face. "Whatever you want to give. What else would I want?" his expression turned heated, and his gaze returned to her lips. "Although, I must say, I wouldn't be opposed to more of _that."_

Snorting a laugh, she would have given his shoulder a little shove, but being as his arm was in a sling and he was generally still recuperating, she thought against it. Sobering up, she grasped his good hand in hers, and stepped closer so that they were nearly touching.

"I don't know what I want to give; what I'm even capable of giving. I just need time to think." moving her eyes up to his, she gave him a slow little smile. "But, in the meantime, I see no reason why you need to waste money on a hotel. I have a perfectly acceptable bedroom."

Kincaid-no, _Mark-_blinked for a moment. "You mean a _spare_ bedroom, don't you?"

Sidney shook her head, quirking her lips. "You heard me, detective. But," she continued, wagging a finger in his face. "Try any funny business and I will have you tazed three days from Sunday."

"Understood." he said, in all seriousness, though she could see that he was trying to keep a smile at bay. "Though…" he tilted his head closer to her, and she could feel the feather-light caress of his breath upon her face. All she had to do was lean in a little, and she could continue what she had started earlier. "Does this count as untoward?"

"Maybe." she replied with a smirk, before closing the short distance between them.


End file.
